Blogitha

Goodbye, Dean.

2006-09-02T15:09:00.000-07:00

And one of the seraphims flew to me, and in his hand was a live coal, which he had taken with the tongs off the altar. And he touched my mouth, and said: Behold this hath touched thy lips, and thy iniquities shall be taken away, and thy sin shall be cleansed. And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying: Whom shall I send? and who shall go for us? And I said: Lo, here am I, send me.

In which Mel reveals the embarrassing depths of her inner hick.

2006-09-01T18:56:00.000-07:00

Listening to a couple of CDs while making dinner tonight, I had a thought. No, really, I did. It struck me that the best cheatin'-husband songs are found in country music. While this probably seems the height of obviousness (there has to be a better word, but I can't find it) to most of you, it had never crossed my mind before. Take, for example, Dolly Parton's "Jolene" and Loretta Lynn's "Family Tree." Great songs. Actually, I prefer the White Stripes' cover of Jolene, if only for its raw pain/passion. And since "Family Tree" is from the Van Lear Rose album, a collaboration with Jack White, does this lead us to the conclusion that all the best cheatin'-husband songs involve an anemic-looking fellow whose wardrobe is restricted to items in black, white and red? No; because both songs were written by the women with the big hair and sequins. And for further proof that all good cheatin' songs are country, consider Willie Nelson's "Red-Headed Stranger" album - all 33 minutes of it devoted to various aspects of the story of a man left by, and searching for, his errant wife. Beauty. Heck, accuradio even has a whole subchannel devoted to the subject: "Married, But Not To Each Other." So it would seem that country music has a monopoly on cheating, or at least on the topic done well. Yes, there are cheating songs in other genres, but only Blue Cantrall's "Hey Ladies" comes to mind, and it simply doesn't compare to the quality of the songs mentioned above.
Which leads me, in the end, to wonder why country singers are so good at this particular subject. Any ideas?

Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign

2006-07-23T23:06:00.000-07:00

CEM- ???

I still have no idea what this sign was trying to tell me.

Hungry Herbie's in Cache Creek. The locals looked at us funny when we photographed this one. I'm pretty sure it was the tallest structure in town.

Punctuation so awful that, in the rush return to my table and grab my camera, I forgot how badly I needed to go pee.

(Speaking of punctuation, I think there's something wrong with that last sentence. Oh well.)

Top half of the Truckstop Cafe, middle of nowhere on a highway between Kelowna and Kamloops. I rather like it.

Defacing Property of the Ministry of Highways

2006-07-23T22:24:00.000-07:00

Saw this sign along a highway in the Interior while road-tripping with Sumptious D last week:

I thought, "You know, it needs a little something extra."
Good old lipstick.

Happy little dead mountain goat.

Nighttime on a Santa Paula Patio

2006-07-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

Hello

2006-07-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since the last post, and you've all been waiting so patiently, it really touches my heart. That being said, not much new here. I am spending the summer working for my dad in the greenhouses, because: 1) he pays better than the office-temp agency did; 2) my commute consists of walking across the driveway (and with current gas prices, this was a big factor); 3) free food; 4) was tired of sitting on my a## 8 hours a day, this here is hard work, and dude, I am so ripped right now; 5) he needed me - well, he needed somebody who didn't think it was okay to go smoke pot outside during work hours, run the carts into/destroy nice plants, and bitch and whine about having to lift things. I only bitch and whine outside of work hours.
So here I am, living at home, working at home, planning to move away from home right after work slows down for fall, trying not to hate my family, making student loan payments on time, and very happily visa-debt-free and working on this thing called "good credit," which the adults tell me is very important.
Anyhoo. Since I really have nothing more to tell, and when I do try to tell things I usually hate how I wrote it and/or come back and delete the post next day and/or bore all ye to the death, I have made a decision. From now on, I will post mostly photos (Oh wow, you say. So different from hte last few months. Well, this time it's intentional.) Think of them as photo essays, like the ones important journalists put in glossy magazines. Only this isn't a glossy magazine and I'll never be a journalist because my writing sucks and I'm too lazy and shy to really hunt someone down for a story.
First photo-essay coming up. Soon, for those of you holding your breath.

Slightly Bridget Jones

2006-04-21T18:19:00.000-07:00

I'm a temp worker. Phew. Feels good to get that out there.
Anyway, this current position is two months of playing receptionist for an investment brokerage in White Rock, a very quiet retirement town by the beach. The average age there is about 40 years higher than anywhere else in the province, excepting maybe the geriatric ward at VGH. It's an easy but pretty boring job. All I have to do is show up, look presentable, answer the phone (which rings maybe 20 times a day), greet the occasional elderly client, and load the dishwasher at the end of the day. The biggest excitement is when mustachioed GLENN HILMLINGER, whose name requires capitals, stops by to remark that I am wearing pink. Yes GLENN, I am wearing pink. Oh, that's nice. Yes, isn't it. Have a maltball, Pink. Thank you, GLENN.
Until one day last week. I was passing the time by staring out the window at the parking lot and counting veterans' license plates as is my wont around mid-morning, when somebody walked in through the door. Somebody tall. And dark-haired. And good-looking. In a suit. A pinstripe suit, no less, that fit very well. If he'd been wearing a fedora, I don't think I could have held myself back.
Sitting up a little straighter and casually taking off my glasses, I asked whether I could be of any help (back rub?). "Yes," he said. "I'm here to see Rob." "Oh," I said, "I'll just ring him in his office. Could I have (take?) your name, please?" "It's Darcy," he said.
Could it GET any better?
The answer is yes, it could have, if he'd decided to chuck his meeting with Rob in favour of taking me out for lunch in some cozy bistro on the strand, followed by a proposal to sweep me off to the south of France for a few years and tell my parents later, but no such luck. So here I am, back to the reception desk and reality...

Scheduling My Hip Replacements Already

2006-04-21T17:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, standing under the uglifying fluorescent lights of the office bathroom*, realizing that, much though I love the new super-short haircut, it does at certain times whisper insinuatingly of Barry Manilow and not Audrey Hepburn, I received a shock.
I found my first grey hair.
It was actually more white than grey.
I've inherited my dad's man-hands and man-feet, concave ribcage, filthy temper, and inability to act normal in public, but not his lastingly youthful hair. Dammit.
Now, there's nothing wrong with a little grey hair, although personally I think premature greying looks better on the menfolk. Some women can carry it off gracefully - Stacy from TLC's What Not To Wear, for instance, with that grey streak dramatically framing her face. But me? No no, my first grey is this bright little wire of a hair standing in glorious prominence at the top center of my head. If that hair had life, instead of being only a chain of dead cells, it would have been be jumping up and down making "Sproing! Sproing!" sounds in between maniacal chuckles and muttered gibberish.
Needless to say, I leaned closer to the mirror, took aim, and yanked it out.
Problem solved - for now.

*the ladies' room that Scott and Tony use because they're too lazy to take the extra five steps needed to reach the men's.

2006-04-10T21:17:00.000-07:00

SATURDAY NIGHT (Drive to Whistler)

Shannon Falls

Closeup

View from the roadside lookout

View down the valley

2006-04-10T20:33:00.000-07:00

SATURDAY (A.K.A. Spirit of the Voyageurs)

(Deep Cove Again)
(Did I mention Deep Cove is one of my favourite places on God's green earth?)

It's classified rainforest for a reason

No we didn't crash

If you click on the photo and look closely, you will see that this family is actually playing Kayak Soccer. Only in Vancouver...

Approaching the beach/Belcarra Park

I look at this photo and think, "I have terrible posture."

2006-04-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY NIGHT

The Opening Act

Matt Costa

Cherry Trees by Night

Not Ready (at the Lennox)

OK, Ready.

2006-04-09T21:59:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY DAY (Part 2 - More Deep Cove)

Glossy Holly-like Plant with Yellow Bobbly Things

Ugly Feet, Pretty Colours

Sumptious Cove

Still Life Pink Magnolia Closeup

Man Is A Social Animal...

2006-04-09T21:41:00.000-07:00

...which is why I can't even begin to say how happy I was about Sumptious D's visit this weekend. We fit a lot into those two and a half days, and it was a lot of fun. Thank you thank you thank you, D...

And now for the pics. I don't feel like writing about the weekend, probably because I'm lazy and more than a little sleep-deprived, so I'm just going to post photos. Lots of photos. Gosh I love cameras. Luckily for my readers, this area is pretty phenomenally photogenic.

FRIDAY DAY (Part 1 - Deep Cove)

Coffee and Cigarettes

Long Left Arm

Cove and Magnolias

Ego Me Mei Mihi Me
Magnolia Closeup

More Photos, Because I Have Nothing to Say

2006-03-29T17:23:00.000-08:00

...and also because the local flora are reminding me why I love springtime in BC.

my favourite, our magnolia tree

Japanese cherry tree

helleborus, a.k.a. lenten rose, so named for its purple blooms which

open and last for several weeks at this time of year

the magnolias again, because they're beautiful and I have a thing for

photographing tree branches from beneath.

Isn't it pretty? Come visit!

This One's for You, Dan.

2006-03-20T21:31:00.000-08:00

http://www.vsocial.com/video/index.php?d=13480

Find of the YEAR!!!

2006-03-14T22:32:00.000-08:00

The transcript to the entire recording of Eddie Izzard's Dressed to Kill video. My favourite bit below: (warning: may be offensive to some, but then you shouldn't be reading this blog anyway)

...we had the Pagans in Britain. You didn't really have the Pagans here. You had the Native Americans and it was much more of a warrior, aboriginal-type existence, and... we had the Pagans. They were into sex, death, and religion in an interesting night-time telly type of way. And we had the Druids! Long white robes, long white beards, early transvestites, didn't get their shaving together; and they built Stonehenge, one of the biggest henges in the world. No one's built a henge like that ever since. No one knows what the fuck a henge is! Before Stonehenge, there was Woodhenge and Strawhenge, but a big bad wolf came and blew them down, and three little piggies were relocated to the projects.

But they built Stonehenge, and it's built in an area called Salisbury Plain in the South of England. The area of Salisbury Plain where they built it is very ( eerie chanting ), ‘cause that's good, you know. It's a mystical thing; build it in a mystical area. You don't want to build it in an area that's ( singing upbeat jazzy tune ). No, there you build Trump Tower. But yeah, so they built it there. And the stones! The stones are 50 foot high, 30 foot long, 20 foot deep, and other measurements as well! And they’re not from ‘round there, that's the amazing thing! Remember, this is B.C. ( mumbles). This was before the B.C./A.D. changeover, when everyone was going, “Is it A.D. yet?” ( mimes adjusting watch ) You didn't have to wind your watch back, you had to get a new bloody watch! “Oh, it’s A.D., isn’t it? Fucking ‘ell!” And the Muslim people going, "A.D? Who's he?" Yes. ( hearty laugh from audience member ) Good laugh there!

So, yeah, the stones are from 200 miles away, in Wales, so these guys in Wales were obviously carving the rocks out of the very living mountain... "Fantastic, building a henge, are we? That's a fantastic idea! That's a marvelous religion the Druids have got! Yes, got a lot of white clothing, I like that. There we go!" And they smashed out a huge stone and then they put tree trunks down to roll it along on.

"All right, walk it along, here we go, here we go."

"Help you push 'em along? It's not far, is it?"

And the Druids going,

"Heave, everyone, heave! Well done, everyone, you're doing very well! You'll love it when you see it. I've seen some of the drawings already, it's very special."

After 200 miles…

"You fucking bastards! You never told us 200 miles! 200 miles in this day and age - I don't even know where I live now! ( sighs ) I wish the Christians would hurry up and get here!"

And they set all the stones up and the Druids still there tinkering around going,

"No, that stone and this one - can we swap them around?"

So that was the Pagans.

And then the Romans came along with their gods that they had borrowed from the Greeks. They invaded Greece, conquered them and stole all their gods... and renamed them with Roman names, ‘cause the Roman gods before that were kind of crap, you know - Geoff, the god of biscuits, and Simon, the god of hairdos… You know, they had the God of War, the God of Thunder, the God of Running Around and Jumping, and stuff. "Oh, let's get some of those! Thank God they've got some gods, ‘cause we have these crap gods, you know?"

Yes, the Emperor Fabulous put that into operation and... There should have been an Emperor Fabulous, shouldn't there?

"I am the Emperor Fabulous!"

"Oh, yes, so you are."

"Yes. And my son, Fabulous II, and him… really interesting guy... “

So yeah, and the Romans went Christian and then we had Christianity for about 1500 years. You know, Catholicism, we believed in the teachings of Cathol, and everything it stood for... Then Henry VIII came along. Henry VIII, a big, hairy king, and he said to the Pope, the head of the Catholic Church:

"Mr. Pope! I'm going to marry my first wife, and then I'm going to divorce her. Now, I know what you're going to say but stick with me, my story gets better. I'm going to marry my second wife and then I'm gong to kill her, cut her head off! Ah, not expecting that, are ya? Third wife, gonna shoot her. Fourth wife, put her into a bag. Fifth wife, into outer space. Sixth wife, on a Rotissimat. Seventh wife, make her into jam. Eighth wife…” ( makes sound similar to putting babies on spikes )

And the Pope's going,

( Italian accent )"You crazy bugger! You can't do all this! What are you, a Mormon? You can't marry all these people! It's illegal! You can't do all this! I am the Pope, I am the head of the Church, I have to keep up… ciao! I have to keep up standards. What have you been reading, the gospel according to St. Bastard?"

So Henry VIII, who was Sean Connery for this film, said:

( imitating Sean Connery ) "Well then, I will set up a new religion in this country. I will set up the Psychotic Bastard religion."

And an advisor said,

"Why not call it Church of England, Sire?"

"Church of England, actually. Much better... Even though I’m Scottish myself."

So they did! That's the birth of Church of England, the birth of the Anglican Church! Disgusting, eh? That's no basis to start a religion on! Nothing to do with the Protestant church, I mean, Henry just shagged and killed a lot of women and then stole all the money off the monasteries. You know, rape and pillage, that is!

The Protestant faith was different. That started probably around a similar time, but that was about Martin Luther, this German guy who pinned a note on a church door saying, " 'ang on a minute!" But in German, so, "Ein Minuten, bitte. Ich habe einen kleinen Problemo avec diese Religione." He was from everywhere. So yeah and so the Protestant faith was sort of tacked on by Queen Elizabeth I a bit later. "Oh, principles! Thank God! We've got some principles." Nowadays, Church of England is much more, "Hello, how are you?" Much more a hobby-type... "Hello!" A lot of people in Church of England have no muscles in their arms. "Hello, yes... ( chuckles ) Yes, that's what I thought. ( chuckles ) Do come in, you're the only one today! Now the sermon today is taken from a magazine that I found in a hedge. Now lipstick colors this season are in the frosted pink area and nail colors to match... And this reminds me rather of our Lord Jesus! Because surely, when Jesus went into Nazareth on a donkey, he must have got tarted up a bit…”

I Am the Walrus Dog

2006-03-07T23:18:00.000-08:00

And that is sad. I need to pray more.

2006-03-04T00:53:00.000-08:00

Paul McCartney and wife are in Canada this week to protest the hunting of seals. I'm not sure why pop singers think they can come along and tell a country - not even their own country - what its laws should be, but Bono tried it in the fall, too, with some other forgettable agenda. Luckily for us Province readers, we have Murphy as a guiding light of reason and humour:

Update

2006-03-03T23:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while, and since I know you're all dying to hear what I've been up to, here's a quick run-down.
-The Saskatchewan job fell through. Contrary to anything written in the job advert, what they were seeking was a journalist, not an editor. They have computers do their editing.
-The law firm receptionist/admin job ended this past Tuesday. It went very well, apart from the day when I lost my voice to the head cold and could only communicate by tiny whispers and all the clients whispered too like we were in a funeral chapel with an open coffin and a weeping widow. After my job in California last year, I thought I hated law firms; turns out I just hated that law firm. People were nice at this one, didn't breathe down my neck every single moment of the day, and even had a sense of humour. Gordon (the lawyer) and I hit it off; he's brilliant and eccentric and reminds me a lot of a chain smoker I knew in college, only about forty years older. He had me bring in my resume on my last day and hinted at possibly hiring me and training for a legal secretary, so who knows. It's not exactly what I've always wanted to do, but then nothing I've ever really wanted to do has been practical, and a girl needs to eat, right? In the meantime, I have a chance at a job near home with good pay, and am keeping fingers crossed. Well not really, what kind of idiot actually crosses her fingers, but you know, metaphorically. Have also applied for a one-month job as an accounting assistant in Banff, simply because it has got to be one of the most beautiful places on earth, and working there/living in employee quarters for $240/month is the only way I can possibly afford to explore it.
-My hair is now shorter than it has been since I was in diapers. Little brother said it looks like a boy, but I say he acts like a girl and at least my hair will grow out of it. Anway it doesn't look like a boy's cut, it's very nice and feminine and I specified to the girl that I didn't want it dyke-short (then hoped like mad that she wasn't gay, because then I'd be in trouble).
-I've been taking a Photoshop class, which has been fun, especially the night I made a duck disappear and gave a pimply teenager clear skin. The only problem with the class is that our large-lipped and spineless instructor Mr. Mann (no joke) has fallen prey to the snares of one of the other students, a gorgeous artist with pink hair which I covet. The pink hair, I mean, not the artist or Mr. Mann. Whenever I try to ask a question, he doesn't hear or notice it because he's too busy hovering around Vanessa and her pictures of her artwork. Incidentally, her most famous artwork, "Seasons," is a series of busts of, well, busts, illustrating the passage of a female from girlhood to adulthood to breast-cancerhood to breast-cancer-survivalhood. Vanessa is a breast cancer survivor who started a group called "The Young and the Breastless", which is, also incidentally, what my similarly-built friend-since-we-were-babies Monique and I used to joke years ago that we would call a soap opera of our lives. That, or "The Bald and the Beautiful," when Monique's hair was falling out in chunks after her visit to Mexico. Anyhoo.
-Mom wants "The Last Rose of Summer" played at her funeral, and five calla lilies on her coffin. This is what my parents talk about on Friday nights, and is why going to the mall with T this evening was such a good idea.

"I Am the Bottom of the Barrel...

2006-03-03T23:05:00.000-08:00

and I have been scraped," said the little voice in my head Sunday morning after *****-who-has-gone-to-my-parish-forever coerced me into brunch with him sometime. I was too exhausted from battling my cold, the depressing sermon, and a mild form of dysentery to think up a clever way out, dammit.
This is a classic case of Catholic Small-Parish Affection-Starved 30-Something NGB Asking Out Scary Flat-Chested Girl In Whom He Is Not Actually Interested, In Vague Desperate Hope That He Will Possibly At Some Point In The Future Get Some Action.
This is also known as Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

Seen and Heard

2006-02-16T23:09:00.000-08:00

I found this little gem of common sense while searching online for nice gifts for friends' baby showers:
BLUE BRIGHT STRIPED PATCHWORK NURSERY BEDDING
Bright multicolor stripes veer this way and that inside patchwork squares. The stripes are yarn-dyed for lasting color and the quilt’s edges are embroidered with decorative stitching. Reverses to solid blue chambray. 100% cotton; bumper has polyester fill. Machine wash. Imported.
Quilts and pillows are not for use with sleeping infants; see Crib Safety Tips.
One might, if one was feeling very very daring, ask What the Frink a Quilt Is For, Then?

Also, a joke from one of my firm's clients:
Q: What do you call a black man flying a plane?
A: A Pilot. What are you, racist?

I Forgot to Add,

2006-02-11T23:14:00.000-08:00

...and then it cleared up. The mighty Nicomekl returned to her banks,

and the mountains returned to their proper places on the horizon.

B.C. is so much prettier in the sun.

On the Weather, Because You Care

2006-02-11T22:35:00.000-08:00

After 489,354,716.2 days (alright, I exaggerate), it has finally ceased raining. Thank You God. The weather went out with a bang, then a little whimper (just three more days of gentle rain), and it has been sunny for THREE DAYS NOW. The bang was the storm we had last weekend, starting Friday night, knocking out power to the area (except for our lot - we have a generator, because of the greenhouses) until Sunday morning. Lightning, thunder, cloudbursts, raging winds, sizeable chunks of tree lying across the road, the whole deal. I love storms, so it was a good weekend.

Dad, despite absence of antidepressants, cracks a smile in anticipation of laying waste to fallen piece of nature, while Mom prepares to assume fetal position.

You can't photograph the wind, but you can try to capture what it's doing.

Little brother found these two barrels with !!!HYDROGEN PEROXIDE!!! WILL EAT YOUR FLESH!!! labels on them in the ditch. My first thought was (we live in Surrey, after all) OhMyGoshTheNeighboursHaveAMethLab and I was all set to call the cops on them, when Dad came along and told me we use the stuff in the greenhouses. Oopsy.

Dignity Restored

2006-02-03T23:41:00.000-08:00

I start work Monday at a law firm. It's only a temp job, but it pays a decent wage and will last me through February. Also sent out application for editor job and hope to hear back about that soon. If God really wants to show how much He loves me, temping at the law firm will last long enough and give me just enough $ to pay for the move and deposit on an apartment out on the prairie.

Mood: sort of "Yay!"

Prayer request

2006-02-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

As all of you know, I've been battling the dark demons of unemployment for some time now. There is light at the end of the tunnel, though; tomorrow I'm applying for the job of my dreams, and I'd appreciate any prayers sent my way. A small-town newspaper in Saskatchewan is looking for an editor, and I think they should hire me. Now don't laugh - I do have substantial English skills, however poorly I may demonstrate them in this blog, and I've been trying to get work in the editing field for some time now, so I'm really excited about this prospect. As it is a small weekly newspaper, I'd probably get to take part in all facets of production, which would make for great experience as well as more variety in my work. Also, housing prices in SK are a third or less of the prices here in the Lower Mainland, which means I'd actually be able to live on my own without selling soul or body to pay rent.
I'm getting my hopes up way too high already, I know, but - or rather, therefore - please pray for me.
Thanks much. -Mel